Wasted
by girleater
Summary: To Hattie, it was a way of forgetting her pain for a while. To Ella, it was a silly routine. -femslash- Hattie/Ella
1. Chapter One: wasted perfection

_I do not own Ella Enchanted. It belongs to Gail Carson Levine._

_Sour Cherry, _

_chapter one: wasted perfection, (Hattie's P.O.V.) _

Truly, I was divine. There was not another girl in the kingdom that could surpass my beauty, and honestly, staring at my reflection in my vanity mirror, there was just no contest. I was the picture of pure perfection.

And Ella wasn't.

I was elegant and privileged and fabulous.

And Ella wasn't.

_I _was _everything _that _she _ever wanted, and the very thought of Ella's inferiority made me chuckle, and the sight of me smiling and looking positively _joyous _made a jolt of pleasure shoot through me. I sighed, and closed my eyes, imagining the sight of Ella attempting to make herself look as amazing as I do. Honestly! The thought of her attempting to make herself acceptable was laughable! It was like dressing up an alley cat! She was deluding herself into thinking that she could win back Prince Charmont; how silly, as he was _mine_. This…_wench _who he's supposedly "marrying" is only a cover-up; it's me he wants, he just doesn't know it yet!

With a final, gratuitous look at my reflection, I smirked at myself, and turned away; I could be improved upon no longer. I grabbed my handbag from my bed, and sauntered out the door, feeling like the queen that I was destined to be. I felt wonderfully powerful; invincible, even, and that feeling only increased when I opened my bedroom door and saw Ella, loitering outside it, looking just as shabby as I knew she would.

"Why are you standing outside my door, Ella dear?"

She glared, shrugged, and set off down the hall, towards the stairs. _Vague and rude_, I though venomously, scoffing at her retreating back, and going after her. _Why _Prince Charmont felt the need to invite _her _to his wedding, I cannot understand. She's a lowly scullery maid! _Really_, what business does she have in the royal courts? No business _at all_, that's what!

Sighing in frustration, I descended the spiral staircase, following closely behind Ella, and together (_together_, _oh, no_) we walked towards Mama and Olive, who were waiting by the front door, looks of feigned happiness at someone else's good fortune on their faces. Well, it can't be helped, after all, it should be _me _walking down the aisle with Prince Charmont, not this--this _Edith _girl he's courting. _Ridiculous_…

"Oh, Hattie, you look wonderful," Mama gushed, smiling brightly at me. Olive merely glanced at me, and shrugged, as if she were being asked her opinion on a gown that she did not particularly like, and she had decided to neglect answering. How rude…

I turned to Mama, "Are we ready to go?" My voice sounded anxious; oh, no that tone will never do…_confidence, Hattie! Head held high!_

"Just about; Sir Peter has come back for the wedding. His coach should be arriving soon." At this, I noticed Ella look uncomfterble. I suppose her and her father had always had their differences…from what I could tell, anyway. She shifted on the spot, casting glowers in my direction.

_She's jealous! _

And I didn't blame her; many a girl has wished to be me; to have my looks, to have my money…

The front door to the manor opened, and Sir Peter entered, looking travel-worn, but albeit, happier; I supposed his travels had yielded greatly in the way of riches.

"Peter!"

Mama rushed at him, throwing her arms around his neck. I glanced over at Ella, and she gagged. _Honestly! _

"Ah, Ella! I've missed you!" Sir Peter said, breaking away from Mama, and wrapping an arm around her waist. He smiled at Ella, who grimaced at him in response. _Really! _She was so insufferably obnoxious!

Sir Peter merely grinned at her, and turned back to Mama; "Shall we go, sweetness?" Mama nodded, smiling, and Ella, Olive and I followed her and Sir Peter outside.

It was a windy, rainy evening; not at all encouraging weather for a wedding. But of course, royal weddings couldn't be called of just because of rain. We ambled towards the coach, Ella beside me, looking up at the sky, an expression of pity and amusement on her face. She had been acting so odd lately, but then again, I suppose I couldn't blame her; Prince Charmont _had _rejected her, and quite forcibly, I might add. I had gathered as much as the fact that he had been in love with her (and really, I can't understand why), despite the falsehoods that she spread at his three balls. But really, he knew that it was I who was meant for him, but he realized too late, and accepted that--that--_Edith _girl's hand in marriage. But once I arrive at his castle, he'll see the error of his ways.

I had to sit next to Ella in the coach, and I looked upon this fate with such palpable fury that my presence was surely enough to burn her. She didn't flinch, she didn't even move, she only stared out the window, absent-mindedly twirling a strand of her hair. And in spite of myself, I stared at her, as I had nothing better to look at, and that was quite the shame. I wondered if she was mourning the loss of Prince Charmont, after all, it would be me who he would fall back in love with, not her. Of course, at this thought, I had to smile. I was superior, and I always would be.

The coach came to a sudden halt in front of the castle; I couldn't help but admire its magnificence, and at the same time, I reveled in the fact that I would someday call it "home."

Excitement mounted inside me, and Mama cast me a glance that reflected pride and approval. Ella, on the other hand rolled her eyes, and slid out of the coach before anyone else could move an inch. I watched her march into towards the castle, looking like she was just as welcome as the prince himself. I scoffed, and followed after her, grimacing when I realized that I had been following her around half the day. No matter, in a few hours time, it will be Ella who was following after _me_.

Inside, the castle was just as lovely as I remembered it, only this time; it was adorned with shivering orange flamed candles that hung from sconces on nearly every wall. The ballroom was fashioned with a red velvet carpet that extended in a straight line from door to the thrones, which were occupied by the current King and Queen.

And there he was!

Prince Charmont and…._Edith _were standing in the corner of the room, apparently attempting to have a moment alone together before the wedding. How cute! Except, very soon, it would be _me _whom he would be walking down the aisle.

Pews had been placed in the room, lined together, and they were already filled with Kyrria's finest nobility, and therefore we took our seats close to the front; Ella sat next to me. Honestly, was she doing this on purpose? _Nevermind, Hattie, you'll be her queen in a few moments time! _

And in a rush of hushed, excited whispers, the wedding started. Prince Charmont, handsome and dressed in the finest fabrics, sauntered down the aisle, _Edith _on his arm. She was pretty, I supposed; blonde and oval-faced, with bright blue eyes. Sure, she was pretty, but not as lovely as I. It was ludicrous for her to even _think _that she could make Prince Charmont happier than _I _could. I was smug, and prepared to see Prince Charmont grimace as he walked past me…

…_but he didn't?_

No, no, no, no! He was…_smiling_! And looking at _Edith _like she was…like he was…he couldn't be! Could he? NO! He was _mine_! He wanted _me_! Not _her_!

They passed our pew, looking like children on Christmas morning; alight with glee that they _shouldn't feel_! Beside me, Ella was grinning, staring right at Prince Charmont and _Edith_, looking happy for him; happy that she wasn't marrying her…happy that he wasn't marrying me…

And then Chancellor Thomas (who I honestly hadn't noticed before) had started droning on about Kyrria and its rulers and the marriage of the Prince and what that would mean for us as citizens…but I couldn't concentrate on any of it. _How could he be happy! He should be going through this grudgingly, as if it were torture! Not smiling, and kissing HER, and--and--saying "I do" to HER!--_

"Do you, Prince Charmont, take Edith, as your wife?"

NO!

"I do."

No, you don't!

"Then I pronounce you husband and wife."

The entire room erupted into applause, including Ella, who continued to grin like a Cheshire cat, exulted by her loss…and _my loss_! The applause had apparently died down; I wasn't sure, I had tuned it out. Things seemed to go white--had I _seen _things properly? Am I honestly supposed to believe that _he's happy with her_?

Certainly not. It's a _farce_. A _lie_. A _fabrication _to please his parents…it's _me _he wants…_me_…

"Ella!" I looked up, shocked, to see Prince Charmont rushing towards our pew, _Edith _in following behind him, looking agitated. _Why did he want to see Ella? Had he not rejected her! _I glanced at Mama--she was looking just as shocked as I was, though she was more…contained. I was aghast, and it probably showed.

"Hello, your Highness," Ella said, smiling, and Prince Charmont smiled back.

"It's…nice to see you again, Ella."

"Same here; congratulations Char, Edith." _Edith _grimaced at Ella; well, we might get along, after all; well, I suppose her husband falling madly in love with me might put a damper on things, but--

"Oh, and Sir Peter! I'm glad to see you're doing well." Prince Charmont had turned his attentions to Sir Peter, who was grinning broadly at him.

"Thank you for your concern, your Highness. And congratulations on your marriage!" Prince Charmont grinned--wider than ever--as if that were possible.

"Ah, yes; Edith will make a fine queen, I think. Sir Peter, it's nice to see that your marriage is going well." Sir Peter grinned at Mama.

_Queen? Edith? Queen? QUEEN! _

Prince Charmont bowed to us briefly, took Edith's hand, and set off towards his parents.


	2. Chapter Two: the start of a routine

_I do not own Ella Enchanted. It belongs to Gail Carson Levine._

_chapter two: the start of a routine, (Ella's P.O.V.)_

I watched Char go, trying to feel happy for him, trying not to let jealously win. I would be no better than Hattie or Olive or Mum Olga is I let the green-eyed monster take over. I smiled as convincingly as I could when Edith looked back at me, trying to be cordial, and to not let the bitter disappointment inside of me boil over. He was married now, and not to me. He had chosen someone who wasn't cursed, and that was the best thing. I had to learn to accept it.

To my right, however, Hattie was aghast; her face had turned a deep crimson, and her blue eyes were wide in disbelief and fury. But for once, it wasn't directed at me. I couldn't help but me grateful, but I knew that somehow, she would find a way to blame the cause of her fury on me. That was simply how she worked.

There was a great eruption of voices; the after party had officially begun. I moved to stand up, to join the festivities, but my father and stepfamily seemed to have other plans.

"No, Ella, we're going home." Father said firmly, casting a nervous glance in Hattie's direction; it was as if he feared that she might spontaneously combust if we stayed here any longer than absolutely necessary. I narrowed my eyes, but I didn't object; there was no reason to give Hattie more of a reason to take her anger out on me tonight. My best course of action was to brace myself for the emotional onslaught that I would no doubt face later on. So, grudgingly, I watched as my "family" stood up, and I followed them out, keeping close to Hattie just so I could chuckle at her expression and disposition.

We exited the castle, dodging dirty looks and gossip-tainted whispers; apparently we had offended many by not attending the after party. No one seemed perturbed by it; Father was pulling Mum Olga along behind him by the arm, Olive was following them like a lost puppy, and Hattie was walking next to me; saying nothing, and looking anywhere but at me. I idly imagined what kind of torture she would inflict upon me with Father back home; I could no longer work as a scullery maid with him here, they had made sure that all evidence of this was gone (even though I had already sent Father a letter detailing their treatment of me). I should have been apprehensive, and panic should have been knotting my insides, but surprisingly, I felt fine. I wasn't scared, not at all. Perhaps not having anything to lose anymore had liberated me far more than I had originally thought.

Once outside, we all slid into the coach, and as soon as we were closed in, the atmosphere that surrounded us was enough to make me want to scream. The tension was so thick, that if I had a knife, I could have cut it into perfectly square pieces. Apparently, Hattie's palpable rage was affecting everyone else, if not terrifying them. I couldn't see why; unless they had been afraid that she would make a scene at the after party. But that seemed silly to me; why would _Hattie_, of all people, make a scene at a royal affair? The possibility was so low that it was almost laughable.

Almost.

When we arrived at Mum Olga's manor, Father was the first to get out of the coach, and as he did, he shot Hattie a warning glance; was he playing the in-charge stepfather with her? I gasped, and Hattie did, too, glaring at his retreating back. Mum Olga merely shook her head, glanced at Hattie and I, and took Olive by the arm, pulling her out of the coach. I stayed seated beside Hattie, shocked, if not a little confused. I still couldn't fathom why they had all reacted so irrationally to Hattie's mood. Unless, of course, there was some underlying reason that I just wasn't aware of. That seemed like the most plausible conclusion to make, so I went with that, nodding to myself, and sliding out of the coach, leaving Hattie alone with her livid disposition.

As I headed towards the manor, I noticed Hattie following after me, her face returned to its normal pasty complexion. She walked alongside me, smirking that smirk that I had become so accustomed to loathing.

"Ella, dear," she was simpering now, "take my hand, and come with me…" she slid her hand into mine, and I choked back a gasp; her hands were soft and very cold.

She led me up the stairs towards her bedroom, and I, of course, apathetically assumed the worse, wanting to laugh at the possibilities that I came up with. They all seemed so harmless now, really. Once we were at her bedroom, she smirked at me; blue eyes alight with excitement that should have terrified me.

But I felt nothing.

She opened the door, and led me inside, her hand still holding mine…almost…lovingly. Abruptly, she released me, and glanced towards the bed and back at me; "Sit on the bed," a command, so of course I obeyed immediately, not really in the mood to be a rebel and deal with the complaints that came with it. She smiled at my submission, and turned to her closet.

"Ella, dear, Delicia is having a gala tomorrow. I need your help…picking out a gown." Her voice shook with excitement.

"Fine," I said, crossing my legs and my arms, playfully mocking and indignant. I wasn't afraid of her, whatever she was planning. She opened her wardrobe, and fussed over the gowns inside; to me, though, she looked like she was merely stalling. She plucked a purple dress from its rack, and held it out to me.

"What about this?" She held it up to herself, and smirked expectantly at me. I glared back at her, and raised an eyebrow in silent mocking.

"No?" She grinned, and tossed the dress to the floor, and pulled out a red one. "Well, then what about this?"

I wasn't in the mood to go through her entire wardrobe, so I merely said; "Pretty. Wear it. Are we done here?"

She laughed, and draped the dress over the back of a chair. She sauntered towards the bed, and sat down beside me, the damnable smirk back on her face. Her eyes met mine, and with a shudder, I felt her fingers crawling up my arm; two of them, like a spider's legs. They rested on my shoulder, and before she could speak, I slapped her. Hard. I surprised myself once my palm made contact with her cheek; the smacking sound was much louder than I had expected, and a faint red handprint had already started to form on where I'd hit her.

I regretted it; who knew what would happen now? But then, I remembered that I didn't care about what she did to me, and that was the end of my panic.

"Oh, Ella, don't be cruel," she said, her tone was amused, like that of a queen who had just been chided by a servant. She rested her chin on my shoulder, and placed her lips to my ear, and I shuddered; her breath was hot, and it sent shivers that I didn't approve of down my spine.

"How often do you think about me?" She whispered, and again, there was that shiver; "What do you mean?" My tone was bitingly sardonic; "Ella, you know very well what I mean."

Her tone was silky, and I wanted to slap her again, but her most incognitos order: "Don't be cruel" rang in my ears, and I could do nothing but sit and force myself to answer her.

"I think about killing you in your sleep all the time."

She chuckled, nipping at my earlobe, making me shiver _again_. What was she _doing_?

"Ella," she had pulled away, and her fingers were suddenly holding my chin a vice-like grip--

And then she kissed me. I couldn't move; I had to sit on the bed; she had ordered me to. I couldn't slap her or push her away; she had ordered me not to. I was trapped, trapped on her bed with her lips moving hungrily against mine, and my mind was in such a haze that I actually found myself kissing back--

"You want me," she was only brushing her lips against mine now, "you need me," she kissed down my jaw line, down my neck…

"Hattie--"

"No," her tone was firm; I closed my eyes and bit back a gasp when her lips rested on the pulse point in my neck that was thumping erratically. I turned towards her, wrapping my arms around her waist, pulling her closer to me, although I really wanted to just push her off the bed. She moved onto my lap, and against my better judgment, I let her, closing my eyed once again, refusing to look at her. My pulse quickened, and Hattie giggled against my neck, and suddenly, she had sank her teeth into my neck, biting and sucking so hard and it took all of my willpower to hold back a moan. She was going to leave a mark…she was _marking _me…

Hattie pulled away from my neck, and kissed my lips again, eagerness overtaking her. I was forced to respond, and as soon as my mouth opened, her tongue had slipped inside, and pressed against mine, sending a wave of heat through my body that made me want to pull her hair until I yanked some out, and moan in pleasure; it was a paradox that I loathed with everything I had.

Hattie pulled away again, panting slightly, just as I was.

"Ella, you want me, yes? Tell the truth."

"I want you."

I could have swallowed my tongue. I hated the curse even more now; I _didn't _want her, did I? No, of course not! But then, why had the curse made me say yes? My head was spinning, and all I could focus on was my hands (that moved on their own volition, I assure you), which were pulling at her dress, flirting with the idea of taking it off. She was still in my lap, kneeling, her legs on either side of me, and she was staring at me expectantly.

I had to make a choice. Did I want her? No, of course not. Then why was my pulse racing so? And why was there a…a…_dampness _between my thighs?

And then it hit me.

Her fury at the wedding--her sudden sexual interest in me (it has probably been there since we met, but now was not the time to speculate about that)--she wanted someone--someone to erase the bitter disappointment she had felt over losing her shot at becoming queen.

She wanted me to be that person. I felt the same way, really; I was torn up about losing him, but I didn't want to smother the depression with…sex. Especially not with Hattie---the girl I hated more than anything---who hated _me_---but then again, what was the harm? And really, who would ever know?

Abruptly, I yanked her dress up over her head, causing her to gasp, and then giggle, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. She was pretty; I supposed, very pale and freckled, with well-defined breasts and considerably thin; pretty.

Hattie shivered when I ran my hands over her breasts; I was testing the waters, so to speak. I suddenly felt very hot; my dress was uncomfterable, and there was a very irksome ache between my thighs.

"Take of your dress," Hattie commanded suddenly, her voice but a whisper, her eyes wide and eager. She helped me, sliding off my lap slightly in order to grasp the hem of my gown, and pull it up, pulling it over my head, she tossed it aside, and it joined hers on the other side of the bed.

She smirked at me, her hands skimming along my breasts, and it seemed that she, too, was testing the waters. I shivered just as she had, because her hands were soft and cold, and the ache between my thighs was becoming unbearable. Hattie took my hand, and guided it between her thighs, and I gasped when I realized that the cotton fabric of her knickers were wet. _Very _wet. I'd never done anything of this sort, but I wasn't stupid (like Olive), I knew _what _to do. Mandy had educated me on the basics of sex between a man and a woman when I was of age, and although she never mentioned anything about sex with other women, I was confident that I could give Hattie exactly what she wanted.

I slid my hand into her knickers, and she moaned as soon as I touched her; her sacred spot was hot and wet, soft and I felt proud of myself when she seated herself more comftirably on my lap; pressing against my hand. She moaned, and we were pressed to tightly against each other that our breasts were pressing together. There was apparently going to be no more talking, and I had a sneaking suspicion that this was Hattie's first time doing anything sexual with anybody.

Experimenting, I rubbed my thumb against the bundle of nerves between her thighs, and she hissed, sucking in a sharp breath, letting her head fall back in ecstasy. I smirked with satisfaction, and with a deep breath, I slipped a finger inside of her, and the noise that she made was enough to make me feel in control, for the first time in my life.

She practically screamed; her nails digging into my back as she held onto me for dear life.

"_Ella, yes_," she hissed, as I moved my finger in and out of her, shocked by how wet she had become. I was enjoying myself; I was in control, for once, and controlling Hattie was utterly euphoric, and I wanted to make her scream for me again. So I slid another finger inside of her. She clung to me; nails digging into my back, moving against my hand, hissing and moaning and _gasping for __**me**_--

"Ella!"

It was so sudden; her walls tightened around my fingers, hard; she spasmed, shuddering against me, and my fingers were drenched in her arousal, her satisfaction…

"God, Ella," she could barely breathe, and therefore I wasn't prepared for what she was about to do next.

Her hand slid down my knickers as soon as mine slid out of hers, and I was reduced to what she had been; shuddering, gasping, _and moaning _for her as she employed the same delicious sensations on me that I had on her. The ache between my legs heightened, and then released--

"Hattie!" I hated yelling her name, but I couldn't help it; I tightened around her surprisingly skillful fingers, shivering as waves of hot pleasure came over me, making me dizzy and high and all these things that I'd never felt before.


	3. Chapter Three: hickeys and denial

_I do not own Ella Enchanted. It belongs to Gail Carson Levine. _

_chapter three: hickeys and denial _

_(Hattie's P.O.V.)_

Ella had fallen asleep on her side, facing away from me; apparently her desperation had mortified her. Wouldn't it have been more befitting to her character to simply get up and leave once we'd finished? After all, I had given her what she wanted; I deserved some alone time to reflect upon my kindness, didn't I? She apparently thought otherwise. I sighed heavily, and settled into bed, pulling the now-wrinkled covers over us. I turned facing Ella, and wondered if Ella knew how lucky she was to have someone as kind as I, kind enough to allow her relief from her desolation from losing Prince Charmont. Because really, his happiness at the wedding tonight was obviously farce; a silly fabrication. That's all it was. And that's all that it would ever be. I was sure of it. Prince Charmont loved _me_, and _I _would be queen, and I would abase _Edith _soon enough. I smirked, and closed my eyes.

~*~

….the sunlight that streamed into my bedroom from the open window was most certainly not welcome. It shined directly into my eyes, and therefore, when I opened them, I was forced to hiss, and pull my pillow over my head.

"Ella!" I hissed, kicking her in the back; "Ella, go close the curtains…" it was an order, and she _should _have gotten up immediately, but she slept on, black hair falling onto her face.

"_Ella_! Go close the curtains!" She jolted up in bed; yes, now, that's how we do things, Ella dear!

"Morning--what?" She looked around wildly, and then once her gaze rested on me, she scowled.

_Oh, now, really! Is that any way to treat the one who gave you complete satisfaction the night before?_

"Go close the curtains!" I repeated, my voice muffled by the pillow. She groaned, and kicked the covers off her. I threw the pillow at her, and she whipped around to glare at me.

"What? That's what happens when you disobey,"

"I didn't disobey! I was _asleep_!" She gripped the pillow, and tossed it back at me. Oh, she was _so _infuriating…I was actually starting to regret my immense act of kindness the night before.

"And put something on. Imagine what would happen if someone were to walk in!"

"_You're_ naked!"

"This is _my _room, Ella dear." She merely glared, and picked her dress from the bed, pulling it on hastily. I noticed a purple-and-red mark on her neck; well, we'll have to do something about that…

Ella marched towards the window, and viciously pulled the curtains together. She turned back to me, "We'll have to do something about this….mark on my neck." She looked uncomfterable; "Then come here." I ordered her to, and so she did, taking her time, and making her way around the room, sitting on the bed beside me. I sat up, and she pulled down the neck of her gown a little further; I had bit her _hard_, the mark was a violent shade of purple-and-red, and it rested right on the pulse point in her neck.

"I could put make-up on it…" I suggested, though I honestly didn't want to. Her desperation still played over in my head; the way she'd clung to me, and the noises she'd made when I touched her….it was satisfying to think about, and honestly I wanted her to leave the mark exposed so everyone else could pay witness to her submission. After all, it would be her word against mine…

"Don't bother. I'll…find a way to hide it." She wasn't looking at me. I absent-mindedly traced my finger across the shape of the bruise, and Ella winced…ah…once I become queen, she would stay with me in the castle; my own little obedient--

"Stop touching me."

"You had no problem with it last night."

She slapped my hand away, and we glared at each other--

…there was a knock on the door; "Hattie, dear?" It was Mama!

"How are you going to explain my presence? Did you even think to lock the door?" Ella quipped, her voice acidly sardonic. I got off the bed, and hurriedly put my dress back on; I turned to Ella,

"Under the covers," I mouthed, and advanced towards the door. I heard a rustling noise, ad I knew that she had obeyed. I opened the door, and there was Mama; in a robe, hair lank and unkempt.

"Good morning, Mama," I smiled at her brightly.

"Morning, Hattie--but, why are you still wearing your ball gown?"

_Oh, no, why hadn't I thought of that? _

"I just fell asleep still dressed."

"Oh, sweetie," she reached out and put her hand on my shoulder, "you'll be queen someday, don't fret."

"Of course I will be, Mama. I wasn't worrying about it." She smiled at my response. "Come downstairs for breakfast, dear."

"Alright."

With that, she closed the door.

"May I come out now?"

I whipped around to face Ella, "Get downstairs and start making breakfast, Mandy will be wondering where her scullery maid is."

She rolled her eyes at me; _oh, Ella, just wait until I'm queen…_"I'll see you downstairs then, Hattie."

~*~

_(Ella's P.O.V.)_

I stared at the mark on my neck, feeling sick and faint and dizzy--which was how I felt last night, just minus the nausea. This was a problem; Mandy was sure to see it, and fuss over it, saying things like, "_you just need some Tonic, sweet,_" and "_tell me who did this to you, Lady,_" and of course, the last one was an order, and I would hate to see the look on her face if I said "Hattie," because she certainly wouldn't approve of sex with Mum Olga's daughter. More importantly, I would hate for Mandy, of all people, to find out that I was no longer her innocent little _sweet_. No, I couldn't bear for her to know.

I apathetically went through my small wardrobe, determined to find something that was high-collared enough to hide the mark. Of course, it was low on my neck, but if I were to lean forward--really, I was being paranoid, but I had to be cautious. I was sure that Hattie wouldn't want anyone to know about what we did, either. So I looked, and I was lucky enough to find something that came up high enough to successfully hide the mark; even if I bent over. Why did I favor low-cut garments? I was feeling more like an indifferent whore with every passing second. Sex with stepsisters…low-cut dresses…_hickeys_….

I shuddered, and pulled the dress on.

Downstairs, Mandy was ambling around the kitchen, cooking and mumbling. She noticed me, and as per usual, she said "Good morning, sweet," and smiled at me. "Morning, Mandy." I sat at the kitchen table; as long as father was here, I wasn't allowed to help Mandy in the kitchen, no matter how much she insisted or how bad I wanted to. So I just sat and watched, feeling useless and still so…apathetic. I blamed my lack of emotion on the loss of Char; I really had nothing to lose now, except for maybe Mandy, but she was a fairy, and there for immortal, so it really didn't matter.

"What's wrong, sweet? You look worrisome." Mandy spoke but didn't look at me; she was occupied with making an ommlette. "I'm fine, Mandy, where's Hattie?" She should have been downstairs by now.

"Hattie and her Ladyship have already gotten ready and left. Her Ladyship wanted to brighten Hattie's mood, I suppose. Afraid she's feeling depressed over the prince, but it should be you we're worried about."

Where had they gone?

I shrugged, and glanced over at Mandy, who was still avoiding looking at me. Did everyone expect me to be depressed over Char? Granted, I was upset; stung by losing my first love, but he was married now, and I had a (cursed) life to live. I couldn't mourn him for the rest of my life. I had to move on. Hattie, on the other hand, was determined to become queen, so I knew that she wouldn't move on quite so easily. And I knew--beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the events that transpired last night was simply just a way for her to feel numb (emotionally, that is) for a brief moment. I also knew (also without a shadow of a doubt) that she would seek me out again.

_~*~_

_(Hattie's P.O.V.) _

It was a lovely day; quite a contrast to yesterday's desolate rain clouds ad gray sky. I felt refreshed--renewed. Walking along the streets of the crowded market with Mama only made me feel even more exulted. We hadn't looked in any stores, however, and I had a vague suspicion that Mama had an ulterior motive for going out with me today.

"Hattie,"

_And there's the confirmation. _

"Yes, Mama?"

"Prince Charmont--"

"Mama, I know he's married to--_Edith_--" she winced at my tone, "but it's me he loves. He just hasn't realized it yet, Mama. And he _will_, very soon, and when he does, _I _will become queen." I smiled, ad much to my disappointment, Mama did not return it. She looked away from me, and we continued to walk aimlessly, with her refusing to look at me.

I didn't know why she was being so pessimistic. It was obvious that Prince Charmont and I were meant for each other; it was just a matter of time before he realized it.

"Dame Olga!" Mama whipped around, and I did, as well, and saw the most misbegotten figure rushing towards us:

_Edith_.

Mama seemed to freeze; her face twisted into an expression of shock and mild agitation. "Oh, hello, Edith," for once, I wished it was _Madam Edith _who was rushing towards us.

_Edith _(no Madam in front of the name) came to a halt in front of her, magnificently dressed and out-of-breath. "Good morning!" She panted, not looking at me.

"Hello, your Highness," Mama said, bowing her head jerkily. Apparently, she didn't see _Edith _as a worthwhile princess _or _queen, either. "It's a fine day, isn't it, Dame Olga?" Small talk, huh, _Edith_?

"Very fine, indeed, your Highness. Tell me, how is the Prince?" Mama glanced quickly at me after she asked.

_Edith _looked as if this was something that she hoped Mama hadn't asked.

"Oh, he's _wonderful_! I just came out to have some time to myself before tomorrow."

Mama looked horrified for a moment, but the she quickly composed her features, and smiled at _Edith_.

"Tomorrow, your Highness?"

"Yes! Tomorrow is our _honeymoon_."

I wanted to vomit.

_~*~_

_(Ella's P.O.V.) _

It was late, and Hattie and Mum Olga still hadn't come home. Mandy had gone to bed already, but I stayed up, even though it was well past the midnight hour. I was curious as to where they'd been, and I wanted to know if my suspicions surrounding Hattie's intentions were true.

Thankfully, I didn't have long to wait.

The front door swung open, and hit the wall with a _bang_. I heard Mum Olga's hi-heeled-booted footsteps, followed by Hattie's, but I didn't dare stand up to investigate. I knew to stay out of the fray, because I wasn't stupid (unlike Olive, who probably would have jumped in right at this moment). I heard yelling, and of course I listened;

"_Hattie! He's married now! He's going on his honeymoon tomorrow!_"

"_Are you saying I don't have a chance?!_"

"_No! You _had _a chance! Not anymore!_"

I immediately knew that Mum Olga regretted her words. Hattie didn't yell back, but her silence was just as furious.

"_Hattie-_"

"_Goodnight, Mama._"

I heard Mum Olga's footsteps ascending the stairs, but Hattie seemed to be standing still. Suddenly, however, she had stepped into the kitchen, looking worn and tired, her eyes red; from crying, obviously. I was surprised that she allowed me to see her in such a condition.

"Hello, Ella dear," she smirked at me, and I knew right then that my speculations were indeed true.

"Hello, Hattie, tell me, where have you been all day?"

"Out, Ella dear. Mama and I went…_shopping_." With the way her lips formed the word "shopping," I could tell that no retail victories had been made.

She sauntered towards the table, and sat down beside me, scooting her chair so that she sat right in front of me.

"What do you want from me?" I asked, my voice unaffected. She didn't reply, and I noted a distinct change in her demeanor; she wasn't all posh and malice, no, she was lustful and desperate. I didn't like this side of her, because I had nothing to _fear _when she was like this. She _wanted _me when she was like this. I wanted her to _hate _me, and yet she insisted on doing this…

…her lips were suddenly on mine, and they were just as hungry and insistent as they had been on that night. Her hands were on both sides of my face, and she was practically in my lap again. I felt all remaining emotion drain from me. My only mind-set was getting satisfaction, regardless of who was giving it to me.

So I kissed her back, my tongue gently tracing against her lips, and she opened her mouth immediately, and I slid my tongue inside just as she had done to me. It sent chills down my spine, and despite me having only felt them one other time, they were as familiar as anything.

A/N: YAY! An author's! I appreciate all of the reviews so far! They've kept me pretty motivated, lol. Of course, this is my favorite idea that I've ever had (all thanks to a certain awesome friend…). So, I hope you all like the P.O.V. changes. I think it's different and interesting, and that it adds a lot of depth to the story. If anything was confusing (because I know how I get--I assume everyone knows how my brain works) then just ask away in a review, and I'll clear things up!


	4. Chapter Four: she's come undone

_I do not own Ella Enchanted. It belongs to Gail Carson Levine._

_Chapter four: she's coming undone (Ella's P.O.V.)_

She was needier than before.

Her lips were more insistent, and with each kiss I gasped, and she swallowed the breath of my submission. I felt no emotions; just physical sensation. I focused on the way it felt when her lips brushed over the mark on my neck…the way it felt to touch her again…to feel how much she _wanted _me…and I _tasted _her; again, and like last time, even though _she _was on top of _me_, _I _was in control, giving her everything and yet taking everything away…

"_Ella,"_ she didn't scream for me like last time; of course not, what would happen if Mandy were to walk in?

"_Don't stop, Ella, please…" _she was whispering, and I knew how mortifying all of this was for her; _me _being in control, when _I _was the chronically obedient one.

"_Yes!" _

~*~

With a groan, Hattie moved off me, panting slightly still, her hair sticking to her face, cheeks and neck flushed red. She shakily fixed her dress, fussing over wrinkles that were barely visible. Her taste was still present on my lips; unconsciously I licked them, and she watched, looking both smug and horrified.

"G-goodnight, Ella," she said, attempting to smirk at me, and failing completely, only managing to achieve a weak grimace. She turned, and walked away, and I watched, propped up on my elbows, still lying on the table. There was a rush of footsteps on the stairs; she was running up them. I should have felt gratified, but I didn't. I felt nothing. She hadn't reciprocated; I'd given her what she'd wanted….

I slid off the table, and straightened my dress. I felt unfulfilled, but what could I do? As far as I was concerned, this was going to become routine, and I would get satisfaction as often as I could.

"Ella?"

I turned to face the kitchen door, suspecting that Hattie had come back downstairs. But, no, it was Mum Olga, who was lingering in the doorway, looking inquisitive and tired.

"Yes, Mum Olga?" She shifted uneasily, as if she many intrusive questions wanted to burst from her lips.

"Where is Hattie?" Her voice was no longer the syrupy nasal-toned annoyance that I had come to loathe; rather, it was cold and less nasally than I'd ever heard.

"She went upstairs to be," I replied, hoping that my dress hadn't become so mussed that she would notice the mark on my neck. With the way she was eyeing me, it was difficult not to be nervous.

"Have you noticed…her…_mood_?" She crossed her arms, and raised an eyebrow at me, as if daring me to make some sarcastic comment.

"Haven't you?" I took her bait, "Mandy says that you're worried about her being depressed over the prince. And anyway, I haven't spoken to her; I don't know how she's feeling." My tone was dull; monotonous, listless. But Mum Olga scoffed, both eyebrows raised in blatant disbelief.

"You were in her room only this morning, Ella, don't lie to me."

She _knew_?

"Have you heard her talk? It's worrying me, Ella," was she opening up to me? "She's…_obsessed _with becoming queen; I'm not surprised, she has bee since she was a little girl, but _now_. The prince is _taken_. I can't get her to understand--she _has got _to give up on him!" I had never before see Mum Olga so…_frantic_. Even more out of character was her venting to me. She continued, firing off more worries.

"Did you hear? The prince is going on his honeymoon tomorrow. Oh, of course you heard, we've never bee able to keep our quarrels private in _this _manor." she smirked, and I saw where Hattie got her looks. Their lips curved up in the exact same condescending way. I chuckled mirthlessly.

"She's starting to frighten me. And I can't talk to her, she won't listen, instead she makes it seem like I'm attacking her."

She was rambling now, but still I listened, curious about matters relating to Hattie for the first time in weeks.

"Ella, _really_, are honestly telling me that you haven't noticed?"

She only suspected that I had been spending time with her _precious _Hattie, so I was free to tell the truth, even if she hadn't really ordered me to.

"I only saw her this morning; she called me in to ask her opinion on a gown." Delicia's "gala" had been a lie, but I didn't feel the need to add that detail.

"Really? Well. Did she mention the prince at all?" I shook my head, and Mum Olga looked significantly disappointed.

"I _suppose _I can understand; after all, becoming queen is what she's always wanted. When she was a little girl, her father--" I had never heard anything about Hattie and Olive's father before, so I listened intently, "--who was a knight, would take her to see the king." King Jerrold? Char's father?

"She always _loved _the castle, she was obsessed with it. And of course Prince Charmont and Princess Cecelia were only children then, too. The four of them played together…" she trailed off in pleasant remembrance.

"Then her father died." I gasped, involuntarily, and sat down at the kitchen table, and I half-expected Mum Olga to sit with me, but she stayed standing in the doorway.

"Like I said, he was a knight, and there was a situation with ogres and…" this time, she trailed off in order to suppress grief; she closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

"After that, we moved from Jenn to here. We never visited the castle again, but Hattie was just as preoccupied with it as ever. She talked of nothing but marrying the prince and becoming queen. It was…_cute_, when she was a child. But her innocent ambitions became an obsession, which, as you know, I nurtured. I regret it now, you know, Ella. She's very depressed; him marrying someone else has destroyed her. I don't know what to do."

I waited a moment, to see if she had finished. She spoke no more; she merely let her head fall back against the door.

"Hattie will have to work things out for herself, Mum Olga." I said. She looked at me, and sighed.

"You're right, as much as I _hate _to admit it. Goodnight, Ella." She rolled her eyes, and was gone.

Yes, I now knew where Hattie got her looks _and _her personality.

I cast a nervous glance at the table's direction, and set off upstairs, eager to get into bed and try to forget the things that Mum Olga had told me. They made me want to feel sympathy for her, and I didn't want to _feel _anything for her. I past Hattie's room on the way to my (guest) room, and I stopped when I heard noises that made my heart skip several beats.

She was crying. Not just _crying_, in the moderately quite sense of the word, but _sobbing_ like a child, and I felt another pang of unwelcome pity. She sounded helpless and broken, just as Mum Olga had said. I didn't feel her concern, but I _was _curious, and so I opened her door, which was surprisingly locked, and entered, not at all shocked to see Hattie lying in bed, on her back, tears streaming down her face. It was pathetic and depressing, and yet I thankfully felt nothing.

I walked towards the bed and settled in beside her, turning on my side to face her. She didn't notice my presence. Tears streamed down her face, and sobs escaped her throat at regular intervals.

"Hattie…" it was sickening to watch, so I decided to put a stop to it. She jumped, and sat up, staring at me with wounded eyes.

"What _are you _doing _here_?" Her voice was even more nasally than usual, and it made me wince.

"Why are you crying?" I sounded exasperated, rather than concerned.

"Just _go away _Ella." She closed her eyes, and fell back onto the bed.

"Is it about Char?" I asked, knowing how to get her to stop being so difficult.

"Oh, _you _call _him Char_?" I had apparently worsened the issue.

"Hattie--"

"He never asked me to call him that! _Never_! NEVER!" She was livid. Her cerulean eyes were practically on fire with her fury.

"Hattie, stop it," my voice carried, and she crumbled, falling on me, and sobbing harder than ever. She was crying into my shoulder, clinging to me. I wanted to push her away, but thought better of it, and merely wrapped my arms around her. Suddenly, she looked up at me, and her tear-filled eyes widened, and then her lips were on mine.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, taking my bottom lip between her teeth, "I shouldn't have left you in the kitchen. I'm sorry." She took my face in her hands, and kissed me again, not as needy as before…she was being gentle and careful. Her lips connected with mine for the briefest of moments, and then she pulled away to brush hers against mine, and I would shudder, wishing for the ferocity that came with our previous trysts. But I said nothing. I only responded.

"You need me, don't you, Ella?" She was whispering into my ear, her hands slowly undoing the ties in the front of my nightgown. "Yes, Hattie," I was breathless, yet still apathetic.

Hattie undid the ties, and her hands ran over my breasts, and I shivered. She kissed me again, and my breath caught in my throat when her left hand slid up my dress, across my inner thighs…brushed against my damp knickers…

"Hattie…" I hissed, and she smirked, and I saw the Hattie that I loathed return, in the place of the one that I reluctantly pitied. I preferred _this _Hattie over the piteous one.

Her fingers pressed against me, and I gasped, arching my back, tilting my head back. As soon as my neck was exposed to her, she pressed her lips to the mark on my neck, kissing it lovingly.

"Hattie…now…" I bucked my hips, pressing against her hand. I was impatient, certainly not in the mood for teasing. She kissed the mark once more, and slid her fingers inside my knickers. I felt dazed; dizzy again, high and eager. She manipulated me easily, pressing against the right places, curling her fingers in _just the right way_, and kissing me with such fervor that I could only gasp.

A/N: Sorry I didn't have this up yesterday; I changed it halfway through. I feel like such a tease with that last scene, lol. Anyway, I'd love it if you guys would tell me what you think of the back-story I made up for Hattie, Olive, and Dame Olga. I felt like it fit well within the world of _Ella Enchanted_, and plus it fits so well with the story. Get ready, because the drama really kicks in soon.


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